


Deep Into That Darkness Peering

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Ornasse battles the Raven god, Anzu.





	Deep Into That Darkness Peering

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published June 14, 2008

_The raven towered above him, its enormous inky shape blotting out the sun. He imagined if only he held very still, the beast would not see him, but the beady eyes glittered with malice as it stared down. Its hooked beak parted, and even far below, Ornasse could see blood that dripped from its edges in unnerving detail. Foolish druid, it screamed, and a cloud of crows burst from cover — from within its feathers or the trees he could not say. Their wings filled his consciousness, flapping and screeching as they swirled around him, pecking and clawing. I will destroy you… and then I will destroy your precious Dream. He could feel the crows tearing at him, ripping tufts of hair and clothing. He felt himself being scattered, the wind gusting up and carrying the bits of him away and where he once stood, there was nothing. Nothing, but he could see Naeva far below, crouched at the edge of the clearing, the tears staining her white face._

He awoke, trembling. The nightmare had plagued him periodically, but now it had changed — evolved. Naeva was still beside him, and still slept peacefully, her breath rising and falling like the swells of the ocean. Was it possible that the creature — he was hesitant to call it a god — could know? Or were the caverns of his own mind revealing their darkest fears?

The nightmare had come for the first time not long after he’d entered the barrow in Moonglade. Somehow, the plants and beasts that had been twisted by the corruption in the tainted Dream were materializing within the cavern. The Wardens fought day and night to hold them back, but their numbers seemed limitless. One of them, what had once been a raven, screamed its dire warning to him. That was when they had begun.

Few in the Cenarion Circle knew anything of this raven, but he persisted, for his own peace of mind as much as his duty to the Dream. He was led to a young druid in the forests of remote Draenor, who insisted there was some connection to the strange and hostile bird-men. It seemed that once they had revered the spirit as a god, and he now had retreated to the Emerald Dream, where he knew very few could tread.

Ornasse reached for his pack, taking out a small bundle wrapped carefully in cloth. Within the bundle was a stone, affixed to a simple leather lace. It did not look like much, but the stone swirled with energy, glowing brightly in the pale morning light. The druid at the outpost in the marsh had aided him with its creation, binding the three bird spirits within the stone. Bait, Ornasse thought ruefully, but he had to hope that they would forgive him this indignity.

He had not told Naeva of the nightmares. Nor, this foggy morning, did he tell her where he planned to go. Part of him knew that he should, that it would be better if he did not conceal it from her; but neither did he wish for her to worry. He also suspected that she would insist on coming with him, and it was far too dangerous. If he failed in this task, she would believe that he simply had moved on, disappeared. She would find another, and simply forget about him. It would be much less painful.

Both of his contacts with the Circle had suggested that he search within the draenei ruins for the raven’s followers; his scouring of their villages had proven fruitless. The labyrinthe ruins seemed an unlikely place to find birds, Ornasse thought, but perhaps that was their reason for hiding there.

The druid disliked the ruins greatly. Even in its prime, the city was composed of narrow, winding passageways, blocked off entirely from the sky. Now in its death, the city’s crumbling walls and whispering ghosts were maddening. He heard the bird-men before he saw them, their harsh cries echoing through the chambers. So they were here, in the depths of the ruins. He hid where he could, not wanting to set off an alarm. The arakkoa’s strident calls would surely bring the rest of the flock to him.

He prowled into a great open chamber, long-abandoned from the looks of the litter strewn over the stone floor. Not surprisingly, old and dusty feathers lay like autumn leaves in great drifts. Looking up, he could see the darting shadows of the small birds that flitted there. A crude altar stood in the room’s center, built of skulls and sticks and feathers, and coated with the wax of melted candles. This was the place, he was certain of it. As if in answer, the moonstone seemed to thrum within his pouch.

Steeling himself, he drew the stone from the bag, and placed it within the twisted claws of the altar. “Come, raven,” Ornasse called to the empty chamber. “Come forth from the Dream and show yourself.”

For a long moment, he thought that nothing would happen. But then the stone rattled violently, clattering against the altar as it shimmered with brilliant blue light. The air above the altar swirled, like a maelstrom in the ocean, its edges tinged with green. Then, the raven materialized, and Ornasse realized with sick dread that it was exactly as it appeared in his nightmares.

Its voice seemed to come directly into his mind, harsh and terrifying.  _So, little druid. You have come at last._  Ornasse was rooted, pinned down by fear, and the raven moved to strike, its deadly beak snapping toward him. Instinct saved him, his body shifting into its nimble nightsaber shape as he leapt away from the raven’s slashing beak. He snarled, his fangs drawn back in a deadly grin as he whirled back on his attacker, striking at the raven’s head with his claws.

But this seemed only to enrage the raven further, spreading its vast black wings like dusk over the room.  _You cannot hope to defeat me, druid,_  it screeched, its strident voice slamming into his mind.  _Accept your fate._

Ornasse roared, rage surging through his veins as he called on the bear spirit. Never, he thought, rushing toward the raven at furious speed. The raven gave a harsh screech of surprise, rearing back to slash at him with its claws. But the bear’s rage was upon him, and Ornasse did not flinch, even as the claws raked repeatedly across his fur. The raven staggered backward, its form shimmering and becoming transparent as it began to retreat to the safety of the Dream. It beat its wings vigorously, and raised its beak toward the sky to utter a chilling cry that reverberated throughout the chamber.

He snorted in fury, his paws swiping the nothingness where the raven once stood, when he twitched his ears suddenly. That sound… he had heard it in his nightmare. From the ceiling, the corners, the hallways, a seething flock of birds rushed toward him, heeding the raven’s command. As in the nightmare, they crowded around him, buffeting him with their wings and pecking with their hundreds of beaks. He struck out at them blindly, his broad paws cutting a swath through their numbers only to be replaced the next second. They fell at his feet, their tiny bodies crushed and twitching, and unlike the nightmare, their numbers dwindled as he struck them down. The few who remained broke free of the raven’s hold, fluttering away back into the dark corners of the ruins.

Is that all you have, raven? Ornasse was not sure if the raven could hear his own thoughts. He stood, panting with exertion, and the raven stepped forth again. Its eyes still held that cold reptilian malice, but Ornasse also believed that he saw fear for the first time.

This time, the raven charged first, crossing the distance between them in two nimble strides. Ornasse was ready for him, his strong jaws bared wide as he leapt for the raven’s throat. It realized, a split second too late, what he was doing, and hopped sideways, slashing at him with its talons. But Ornasse had seized hold of the thick feathers at the beast’s neck, and now chewed his way closer to the vulnerable throat. Screeching in fury, the raven tossed its head, trying in vain to dislodge him. Feeling Ornasse’s teeth upon his skin, the raven screamed, so loudly that the druid was certain his head could not contain it. The massive bird rolled onto its side, slashing at him with its talons even as Ornasse sunk his teeth into the windpipe.

Then, in a moment, the raven was gone. Ornasse’s jaws snapped together with an audible click as they closed on nothing. As the blood-rage faded, he blinked in confusion. Was it dead? The raven had certainly been real, its massive claws had raked several gashes in his pelt, staining the fur with blood. The tip of one claw rested on the cold stone, having broken off during the struggle. Ornasse released the bear spirit, returning to his own body, and sealed the worst of his wounds with a healing spell. He picked up the claw, turning it over in his hand, and frowned back at the place where the raven had been.

He looked up, but the birds held no answers for him.

He would return to the Circle and tell them what he had learned. If not dead, perhaps the raven had retreated where the druids of the Dream might find it. Either way, he thought, tucking the raven’s claw into his pack, the nightmare would be over.


End file.
